"Nothing," she said, closing the book.
"What's in the envelope?" he asked.
She pulled a stack of letters from the manila envelope. "They're all addressed to my grandfather." She opened the first one and began to read aloud.
"Dear Wallace, I miss you so much already. I hate this war. I hate that we can't be together. And most of all I hate that we didn't get married before you left. I think about you every day. You have my heart, Wallace. Keep it safe until you return. Love always, Dolores."
Paige felt a wave of emotion as she folded the paper and returned it to the envelope. "A love letter from my grandmother. Who would have thought anyone could love that cranky old man?"
"He probably wasn't always so cranky."
She opened the next one and read softly,
"Dear Wallace, I'm so afraid. We haven't heard from you in a long time. You've been declared missing in action. I was with your parents when they were told. Your mother fainted. Your father said it wasn't true, that you couldn't be gone. I don't believe you're gone, either. In my heart I know that you're alive and that you're coming home to me. We're going to have a future together, children, grandchildren. We'll grow old together. I miss you so much, Wallace. I'd do anything to get you back, and I know you'd do anything to get back to me. You're so strong, determined, stubborn. You'll get through this. We both will
..." Paige's voice trailed away as she glanced at Riley. "She must have been so scared."
"She didn't give up on him."
"No, she didn't. And he came back to her just like she said he would."
"He did whatever he had to do to get back."
"Maybe," she said, wondering what bargains her grandfather had made to get himself out of China. "Anyway, I'm sure these letters are more of the same. I don't feel right reading them. They're so personal." She placed the envelope and the photo albums into the box and stood up. Riley put the box back in its place on the top shelf. "I think we're done in here."
"Yeah." Riley took one last look around the bedroom before they turned out the light and walked into the hall. "There's one more place I want to see before we go."
"We can't do the downstairs," she said quickly. "The housekeeper is here, maybe one of the maids. And my father is resting in his bedroom."
"I'm not interested in the downstairs or your father's bedroom. It's time for payback."
"What does that mean?"
"I showed you mine. Now you show me yours."
"Just what exactly are we talking about me showing you?"
"Your bedroom. I want to see where the princess slept for most of her life."
Against Paige's better judgment, she snuck Riley down the stairs and into her old bedroom, which was thankfully at the far end of the hall on the second floor, separated from both of her parents' bedrooms by several guestrooms and two bathrooms. She'd moved down the hall just after her thirteenth birthday in a moment of pure teenage rebellion. Her mother had pouted for a week, but it was one of the few times in her life that her father had actually stuck by her and stood up for her decision, saying she needed more space and privacy.
"This isn't nearly as nice as I thought it would be," Riley said with some disappointment. "Where's the canopy bed and the pink rug?"
"I hate pink," she retorted.
"You must hate every color."
She saw her room through his eyes, cream-colored walls, cream-colored carpet, cream-colored bedspread on the double bed with just a hint of a flower pattern. At least her bed frame, desk, and dresser were a dark wood.
"Where are the teenage rock star posters, the sports trophies, the antique porcelain doll collection?" he asked.
"How did you know I have one of those?"
"Lucky guess." He sat down on the bed, stretching out against her fluffy pillows, and he had the nerve to actually put his feet, shoes included, on the comforter. "You really were raised to be a princess, weren't you?"
"Do you mind getting your feet off the bed?"
"Afraid of a little dirt?"
"Not afraid of it. I just don't feel like cleaning it."
"Don't you have housekeepers for that?"
She crossed her arms and studied him thoughtfully. "This is another test, isn't it? I'm starting to recognize them. I constantly seem to be auditioning for you, but I'm not quite sure what part I'm trying out for."
His eyes darkened. "What part would you like?"
"How about the part where I get to be myself and you stop judging me by all the stereotypical rich girls you've met in your life?"
"I haven't met any rich girls before you."
"Now, that I find hard to believe."
"Why?" he challenged. "Do you think they lived in my neighborhood? That they were in the marines with me? Or maybe you think they work for my security company?"
"If you aren't comparing me to anyone in particular, then why do you have so many critical judgments about me?" He didn't answer, but she could see she'd struck a nerve by the way his jaw tightened. "I know why. It's because you're still trying to convince yourself that this attraction we're both feeling will take you someplace you don't want to go."
"At least you admit you're attracted to me."
"You know I am. And I think we could be good together."
"What makes you think that?"
Sensing he genuinely wanted to know, she decided to tell him, even though she felt as if she'd run into another test. "You need someone like me in your life to make you see the other side of things, to make you believe in the good stuff again."
"And what about you? Do you want someone to drag you down, to mire you in the bad stuff the way I would?"
"Maybe I need someone to hold my feet to the fire, the way you do." She moved closer to the bed and sat down next to him, putting her hand on his very solid chest. "I need someone to challenge me, and you do that."
"Paige," he warned, "don't start something you can't finish."
"Who said I can't finish it?"
"We're in your bedroom at your parents' house. There is no way it's going to happen here."
She almost laughed at the desperation in his voice. "You don't think so, huh? I seem to have a thing for childhood bedrooms where you're concerned."
"I don't think you want your mother to see my bare ass on your bed."
"That would shake her up," she said with a little laugh. "But I actually like the sound of that." She dropped her hand to the snap on his jeans and heard the sharp intake of his breath. She didn't have to look down to know that his body was not fighting her nearly as hard as his mind was. Since she was a curious woman by nature, she let herself look anyway and was more than a little pleased by what she saw. When she glanced back at Riley, she couldn't hide the smug satisfaction she was feeling.
"I'm a man," he told her. "It doesn't take much."
"That's what you'd like me to believe, but I know it's me making you crazy."
"Feeling awfully sure of yourself all of a sudden."
"At one time, in my youth, I was an inexperienced virgin sleeping in this bed, but that was a long time ago, Riley. I want you to understand something important, all joking aside."
"Okay, tell me."
"I'm not a princess. I'm a woman, a complicated woman with good sides and bad sides. This room is part of who I am. I won't try to defend my family or my background or the privileges I grew up with, and I don't expect you to defend yours. What's important is not where we come from or how we were raised, but who we are today, what we want out of life."
"It's hard to forget where you come from."
"Maybe I can help you forget." She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned forward, whispering in his ear. "I want to make love to you."
"God, Paige, you can't just say it like that."
"I can say it any way I want."
"If you want to go back to my apartment—"
"I don't. And I don't want to go back to my apartment. I want to make love to you here."
"Why here?"
She gazed into his dark blue eyes and knew she had to tell him why. "Because this is where I first dreamed about you."
"Not me. I'm not some prince. You must have me mistaken for some other guy."
"I know who you are, Riley. And I have a pretty good idea of who you're not. I don't mean I dreamed of you exactly. I just dreamed of feeling this way, a little bit wild, reckless, like I'm about to jump off a cliff and I'm not sure where I'm going to land."
"Maybe you should back away from the edge."
"You're the one who makes me want to go higher and see what's on the other side." She touched his lips with hers, tentative at first, then with more confidence when he didn't reject her. "I'm going to make you forget who you are and where you are. The only thing in your head and your heart will be me," she whispered against his mouth, feeling his warm hands run up her back as she pressed her breasts against his chest and ran her tongue along the line of his lips.
Riley groaned deep in his throat. "You're killing me, Paige. I'm going to stop saying no if you're not careful."
"Good, because I don't intend to be careful." She covered his mouth with hers, diving into the kiss with her heart and her soul, giving him everything she'd dreamed of giving a man. No holding back. No second thoughts. It was all about this one moment, this one incredible kiss.
She threaded her hands through his hair, drawing him as close as she could, and when his arm slid around her body and hauled her up tight against his chest, she knew there was no turning back. She let reality go, stroking his tongue and feeling the rest of her body respond with a sense of desperation she'd never experienced before. She wanted him more than she wanted to breathe. She'd never felt so needy, so starving.
A moment later, the breath was completely knocked out of her when Riley moved suddenly, tossing her on her back, his hard body pushing her into the soft pillows.
"You didn't think I was going to let you call all the shots, did you?" he asked.
A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine at the intense male look in his eyes. He cupped her head with his hands, imprisoning her face for his very thorough kiss. Then his mouth left hers to dance along the side of her cheek, down the column of her neck across her collarbone as if he were following a path straight to her heart. But it wasn't just her heart calling him. Her breasts were tight and fun, eager for the touch of his fingers, his mouth. Her legs were moving restlessly between his, her body yearning to complete the connection between them.
"Damn." Riley pulled back with a breathless curse. "What's wrong?"
"I don't have anything. Protection. Safe sex. You know." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair.
"Oh. Don't you have anything in your wallet?"
"I don't have my wallet."
"You don't have your wallet? But you drove us here. Did you drive us here without your driver's license?"
He stared at her in amazement. "Is that really the most important thing on your mind right now?"
"Sorry."
"What about your purse? Don't you keep anything handy in your purse?"
"I own a dozen purses, Riley. And today I used the sneak-into-my-mother's-house purse, which does not come with condoms."
"Then that's that."
No, this couldn't be happening, not now when she wanted sex more than she'd ever wanted it in her life. Think, she told herself. "Wait. Oh, my God. I think I can save us."
"I sure as hell hope so."
"You'll have to let me up."
He sat back and she slid off the bed, walking over to her bookcase. She ran her fingers along the spines of novels she'd read during her high school years. There it was, The Odyssey, a thousand pages that her mother would never dream of reading. She flipped through the pages until two foil-wrapped condoms dropped out. She picked them up and held them out triumphantly to Riley. "They're still here."
"From what decade, Paige?"
She pursed her lips. "They're not that old. I didn't buy them until after I graduated from college. I was trying to be a grown-up."
"So you bought condoms and hid them in a book," he said with a laugh.
"I didn't want the housekeeper to find them and report them to my mother, because then I'd get the lecture on strange men and strange diseases."
"You are crazy."
"You want me anyway." She walked toward him, dropping the condoms on the comforter.
"I do," he agreed, taking her hand and pulling her back down on the bed.
"Good."
He pushed her back against the pillows. "Now, where were we? I know." His hand went to the buttons on her shirt, his fingers playing with those buttons for long minutes, while he leisurely kissed her as if they had all the time in the world. She wanted him to pick up the pace. She wanted that hand on her breast, and it seemed to be taking forever for him to undo the buttons.
"You're torturing me," she muttered.